


Spring Cleaning

by Karita Wyr (karitawyr)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Clothes Porn, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-10
Updated: 1999-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karitawyr/pseuds/Karita%20Wyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Closet cleaning leads to reminiscing and...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Thanks to Riley for beta-ing this and for her obsession with men's shoes that partly inspired the story. This is also my Keeper's Challenge story (from the Master_Apprentice list). I am the Keeper of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's civilian clothes used on their dangerous undercover missions.
> 
> Disclaimer: The boys belong to Mr. Lucas, not me. I did dream once that George was my uncle. If he really was I know what I'd ask him for as a Christmas gift!!!

Qui-Gon Jinn had no sooner entered his padawan's bedchamber than he nearly lost an eye to a flying silver metal belt. At the last moment he sidestepped the surprisingly dangerous accessory. He was still wondering why Obi-Wan had chosen it as a weapon when a black and white athletic shoe struck him solidly in the chest. He was somewhat chagrined that he had not sensed the "danger" before it hit, but felt fractionally better for having caught the projectile.

He determined that the attack was being launched from the interior of Obi-Wan's closet. Carefully he peeked in and saw his apprentice on his hands and knees. Now that is a pleasant picture, Qui-Gon mused.

The young man held the other black and white shoe in his right hand as he attempted to pair up dozens of shoes and boots. He glanced up, noticed Qui-Gon, and a delighted smile lit his face. "Master, you found the other shoe!" He reached out and took it from Qui-Gon's hand. "You know, I don't believe these are even mine," he said absently, tossing the shoes onto a pile across the room.

"The shoe found me, Obi-Wan," the older man said as he rubbed a hand over his midsection.

Obi-Wan snapped back to attention and had the good grace to flush slightly. "Sorry, I guess I got carried away with my spring cleaning."

Standing back, Qui-Gon took stock of the younger man's closet, or at least he tried to. The task was enormous. He shook his head in astonishment. Where in the galaxy had Obi-Wan gotten all these clothes?

The question, though not asked out loud, had been anticipated. "They're mostly from our missions over the years. Local costumes we were forced to wear in the name of diplomacy and some things from the undercover assignments as well."

One small batch of clothing hung on the overburdened rod some distance from the rest. Qui-Gon waved a hand at them. "And what are these?"

Sitting back on his heels, Obi-Wan looked over at the clothing Qui-Gon indicated. "Those have too many memories attached to ever part with them"

Qui-Gon was curious to see what caused this unexpected sentimentality. He held up a pair of dark brown leather pants, a matching jacket and a gold shirt. "I believe this outfit came with a very important accessory," he said.

"The knife is in the top drawer of my dresser. And again I wish to stress that I had no intention of doing what I did."

"It was quite effective though."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That it was." Qui-Gon had been posing as an arms dealer and Obi-Wan as his bodyguard. They were meeting with a terrorist group. Their leader had a difficult time accepting the idea Qui-Gon would have such a young man as his protector. Certainly, Obi-Wan was not a physically imposing figure. But he did know how to throw a knife, and aided by the Force he was deadly accurate. In a blur of speed, he yanked the dagger from its sheath on his thigh and tossed it at the head of one of the lieutenants. This throw was designed to scare the man not harm him. The knife would merely pluck a few hairs from the victim's head and pin them to the wall.

On this occasion, more than a few hairs ended up on the blade's tip. Impaled on the knife was the man's whole head of hair. He had been wearing a toupee. A very poorly secured toupee. Needless to say the lieutenant was embarrassed, but his superior was immeasurably impressed. From then on Obi-Wan was treated quite deferentially and he noticed several amongst the group who always found reasons to hold a hand on top of their head when he was near. Apparently, there had been a good deal of disguised baldness in the ranks.

Next Qui-Gon pulled out a pair of dark blue work pants with a lighter blue shirt. "I remember these from Hadrall. We joined up with those spice smugglers who lived on that old cargo ship." At the mention of that ship, Obi-Wan visibly shuddered. For reasons Obi-Wan could not fathom, the smugglers got a chortle out of living on the old seafaring vessel; he on the other hand got seasick every half-hour. He could sense that Qui-Gon was also remembering his distinct discomfort.

"I did my best to distract you, Padawan"

"You threw me over your shoulder and dumped me into a lifeboat."

"I don't recall too many complaints at the time," Qui-Gon remarked.

A small chuckle escaped Obi-Wan's throat. "Well, I did forget about my seasickness."

Crossing his arms across his body Qui-Gon said in a mock serious tone, "It is good to know that you do not feel nauseous when we make love."

Obi-Wan stood and stepped gingerly over the piles of clothing and shoes. He tipped his head back slightly and kissed his master on the lips. The kiss was deliciously brief. Obi-Wan pulled away slowly and then did something completely out of character. He swooned, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and whispering breathlessly, "Well, occasionally I do feel dizzy and short of breath." Then he dropped his hand and the act, raised one elegant eyebrow and laughed wickedly. Qui-Gon joined him.

The next hanger on the rod held a pair of black satin-sheened pants, a green shirt with a black collar and cuffs, and a black cape. "Obi-Wan, these are not yours."

"No, Master. As you well know, you wore those when we were visiting Syret for the Lightning Festival. One year, one hundred and twelve days ago."

"One year, one hundred and fourteen days ago, Obi-Wan. And I will never forget that day. The day I realized you felt the same way about me that I felt about you." Qui-Gon's hand gently caressed his love's cheek.

Obi-Wan leaned in to the touch, and then he looked up at his master through his lashes. "Master," he said softly, "could you do me a great favor."

"Anything, Obi-Wan," the older man vowed.

"Could you put that outfit on? I think I should like to rip it off you again."

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first slash story and was written in 1999. Time flies.


End file.
